


That Voice

by TheGlassFloor



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid, Crackfic written with sincerity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, I promise, M/M, Nori is a Maia, Nori is a softie, Nori is rather eccentric, The Silmarillion References, Valar and Maiar, at least no permanent deaths, the Quest for Erebor, then becomes a dwarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8463469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGlassFloor/pseuds/TheGlassFloor
Summary: A Bilbo/Nori fic inspired by The Little Mermaid.  Yes, you read that right.  It’ll all make sense, trust me.It was a normal day just like any other when Nori, a Maia of the sea, chose to deviate from the accepted norm and saved a hobbit from drowning.  Little did he know just what consequences his mini act of rebellion would bring, as both he and the hobbit will soon play a vital role in shaping the future of Middle-earth.





	1. Chapter 1

It was Bilbo Baggins’ thirty-third birthday.

For a hobbit like Bilbo, turning thirty-three meant that he was now of age, and in celebration of this momentous occasion, his dear parents, Bungo and Belladonna Baggins, had agreed to accompany him on an excursion on a boat out to sea for the day.  He’d dreamt of having an adventure of this sort ever since he was a small child--no surprise, considering how his mother had been quite the adventurer herself in her younger years--and his parents promised him he would be able to, someday.  Bungo, his father, being much less adventurous than Belladonna and much more of a homebody, secretly hoped his son would eventually outgrow this urge.  His hope proved in vain, and now that Bilbo was old enough to do virtually anything he wanted, his parents elected to go with him rather than let him go alone.

“This is amazing!” Bilbo exclaimed, poised at the bow of the vessel.  “The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face...it’s just like I always imagined it!”

His parents smiled at him from their seated positions, glad that their son was enjoying his birthday, both secretly hoping they could keep their latest meal down, as boating didn’t necessarily agree with either of their stomachs.

The captain of the boat they chartered had assured them that they could expect nothing but fair weather all day, but alas, this turned out to be a mistake in judgment when the sky began to rapidly darken with thunderclouds and a storm rolled in after they had already sailed far enough away from the shore that making it back to land would be no easy feat.  The tumbling rain and forceful winds sent the ocean into a frenzy, tossing the miniscule boat this way and that and threatening to capsize it.  Bilbo tried his best to help the captain rein in the sails, trying even harder to keep his footing as the mighty waves flooded the deck, meanwhile his parents could only manage to hold on for dear life.

Then, before he could even fathom what was happening, a violent deluge of seawater engulfed him and the poor, young hobbit was swept overboard.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Nori was a Maia, a simple spirit who lived in the sea.  He was just one of many such Maiar who served Lord Ulmo, residing in lakes and rivers and all other bodies of water, spread out all across the world.

It was a day just like any other when Nori spotted him: a small figure floating just below the surface, intermittently illuminated by flashes of lightning from the raging storm above.

_ It’s one of Iluvatar’s children! _ he thought excitedly.   _ I’ve never seen one this closely before. _

He drew nearer to the person to have a better look at him.  He was rather small, with a copious amount of hair growing on his feet.  Nori remembered having heard about these kinds of little people--hobbits, they were called.  How on earth did one of them wind up all the way out here?

He was unconscious.  He would perish soon if left alone out here.  Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

Nori took physical form, giving himself a powerful tail that would enable him to swim rapidly to the shore, and a pair of strong arms on a slender torso so he could carry the hobbit gently and carefully along the water’s surface.

The storm had mostly passed by the time they reached the shore.  The clouds had dispersed into a thin, grey blanket covering most of the sky, with only an occasional, faint rumbling of thunder off in the far distance and a few patches of sunlight seeping through here and there.

Nori lay the hobbit on his back on the sand, settling beside him and positioning himself so that he was leaning over the hobbit’s chest.  He didn’t want to leave him until he’d made sure that he would be all right.

At least he was breathing.

His eyes were closed, his clothing completely soaked and clinging to his body.  Nori brushed the hobbit’s damp curls away from his face, then spent a good, long while staring at it before he even realized he was staring.

_ Why _ was he staring?

Maybe he’d had one too many staring contests with eels, and it was just nice to have someone attractive to look at for a change.

There was no sense in denying it: the hobbit was beautiful.

The unfaltering sound of waves crashing onto the shore seemed to fade into mere background noise as Nori’s lips parted in song--the Ancient Song of the Sea.  He began softly, simply letting the sound of his voice flow freely, never removing his gaze from the small hobbit, even as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

Was this what falling in love felt like?

Would Nori ever feel the same again after this, about anything?

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Now  _ this _ was something he never expected to see.

Like something out of a vision...a bearded man, with long red hair hanging loosely around his bare shoulders, framing a kind, handsome face smiling down at him…

“Bilbo!”

He stared bleary-eyed up at a cloud-covered sky.  The man was gone.

“Bilbo!” his mother exclaimed tearfully, arriving at his side.  “Oh, Bilbo!”

“We thought we’d lost you, boy!” his father followed a moment after.

His parents helped him sit up.  “Where...where did he go?” Bilbo asked, looking all around.

“Where did who go?” said Bungo.

“There was a man,” Bilbo said breathlessly.  “Or a dwarf, maybe...he had a beard...and he was singing...he had...the most  _ beautiful _ voice…”

“Oh, my dear,” Belladonna fussed, “we’d better get you dried off and into a warm bed.  Come on, now.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Certain rules have been put in place for the Maiar to follow, and you would do well to follow them, Nori,” Ulmo said sternly.  “Is it true that you saved a Man from drowning?”

Nori, relatively meek Maia that he was in comparison to the mighty Vala presently looming over him, wasn’t sure whether to hold eye contact with the great, intimidating Lord of the World’s Waters or avoid looking him in the eyes altogether.

“A hobbit, my lord,” said Nori timidly.  Then, to show he wasn’t trying to contradict or correct his master, he added, “Hobbits are neither elf nor dwarf, so yes, I suppose that makes him a Man.”

“Communication or intervention between the world of the Maiar and the world of Men is strictly forbidden, Nori.  You know that.  Everyone knows that.”

“But my lord, he would have died had I not intervened.”

“The Gift of Iluvatar: free will.  They all die eventually anyway.  They are mortal.”

The volume of Ulmo’s speech had steadily risen, and continued to rise, not quite to a shout, but with a voice as potent and powerful as the very waves of the ocean, such as Ulmo possessed, it was hard for Nori not to feel like he was being shouted at.  He wondered how Ulmo had even found out, or who had told him.

“I ask for your pardon, my lord.  My only intention was to serve the greater good.  And if I may be so bold, I wish to mention that I am not the first Maia to interact with the people of Arda.  What about the Istari--the five wizards?  Or Melian, who married the elf prince Thingol?”

“None of them were under my authority.  They were given leave by their own Valar to venture into Arda to do as they would.  Need I remind you of the Maiar who acted upon their own will without first being given leave?  The Balrogs?  Or Sauron?”

“Sauron!”  This time Nori did dare to look him fully in the eye, his jaw hanging loose, unable to hide how affronted he felt at such a statement.  “Surely you cannot think that I am in any way comparable to him!  The very idea of committing such evil deeds as--”

“No one considers their own deeds to be evil, Nori!”  Ulmo was actually shouting now, causing Nori to shrink in on himself.  “Do you think Melkor ever contemplated the destruction and harm caused by his acts of wrongdoing?  Do you think he saw the error of his ways?  Any act that is not in accordance with one’s intended purpose is an act of rebellion, and it is rebellion that gives rise to evil.”

Nori hung his head in shame.  How little his master must have thought of him, that he would liken him to someone like Melkor, the very Vala who’d practically introduced the concept of evil to the world.

“Do forgive me, my lord,” he said quietly.  It was all he could think of to say.

“That will be all, Nori.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Time passed the way it always did for the spirits of the sea, neither slowly nor swiftly, with little incident besides the constant ebb and flow continuing as it normally would, and always had, throughout the Ages.  Nori had to put up with an ample amount of teasing from his peers once word got out about the dressing-down he’d received from Lord Ulmo, and it carried forth about as predictably as one might expect.

“Now Nori,” said one, attempting to mimic the deep rumble of the Water Lord’s voice, “you know you’re not permitted to involve yourself with boys.  I don’t care how attractive you find them.”

“But my lord,” said another, mockingly, “all of the fashionable Maiar are doing it!”  Which prompted the obligatory response: “And if all the fashionable Maiar jumped off a bridge, Nori?”

He ignored their laughter and taunting.  Nothing could deter him from the devotion he felt for the hobbit-- _ his _ hobbit, he had come to think of him.  He knew there was no way they could ever be together in the same place, but he also knew that the hobbit wouldn’t even  _ be _ at all if it hadn’t been for Nori, and for that reason he felt connected to him.  Never mind the fact that such feelings were considered akin to rebellion; as long as he kept his private thoughts to himself and never shared them with anyone, what difference did it make?

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Soon enough, there came a time when fewer and fewer reasons for laughter and jollity could be found, until one day there seemed to be none left at all, for a dark cloud of misery and hardship had formed over Middle-earth, barring any hope or chance of its people regaining the happier lives they had once lived.

The Dark Lord Sauron had returned to power.

Scarcely anyone could have predicted it.  His ring, the One Ring of Power, had been found deep in a cave in the Misty Mountains, picked up by a goblin, passed on to an orc, and finally delivered to the Dark Lord himself in Dol Guldur.  With the Ring once again in his possession, no army was strong enough to challenge his forces.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Nori perched atop a rock near the shore, taking physical form so that he could feel the hot, salty tears rolling down his cheeks and into his beard, unable to tear his gaze away from the suffering and woe happening in the lands beyond, even though there was nothing he could possibly do to help.  He had already learned to accept the fact that he would likely never see the hobbit again, but for a while at least he was able to take comfort in knowing that he was alive and well (thanks to Nori having saved him), and hope that wherever he was, he was happy.

Not anymore.  With the Shire completely decimated, there was small chance of survival for any of its inhabitants.  The very thought of what might have happened to his little hobbit, or could potentially be happening to him at that very moment, caused Nori great pain.

He clenched his eyes shut, squeezing out more fat tears and burying his head in his arms.  He raised his head again when he sensed a presence before him, and was startled to see another pair of eyes with their own liberal outpouring of tears staring back at him.

“Lady Nienna!”

It was her, sure as day.  It seemed like Ages since he’d last seen the Lady of Mercy, the most compassionate and caring among the Queens of the Valar, but there was no chance of ever forgetting such a kind face, such gentle eyes, always weeping on behalf of the world, showing pity for its many forms of grief.

“My child,” she whispered, reaching out to him and softly caressing his cheek.  “You are weary with sorrow and much heartache.  Come with me.”

She offered her hand and he took it, allowing himself to be guided across the sea away from Middle-earth and towards the land of Aman, the home of the Valar.  He expected her to take him to her own halls on the western shore, for whatever comfort might be found there, but instead to his surprise she led him to the Halls of Mandos, the dwelling place of the dead.  It was there, Nori knew, that the souls of fallen elves were brought to await their judgment, as well as the dwarves of  Aulë in their own separate halls.  For a brief instant, Nori felt his heart leap at the sudden hope that he might be granted the chance to see his hobbit again, but then he remembered that the souls of Men (and therefore hobbits, it stood to reason) were not meant to linger in the halls for long; rather, their souls passed through only very briefly before leaving the world behind altogether to face whatever lay before them in the great, mysterious beyond.

Nienna guided him through the vast, cavernous hallways with impossibly high ceilings and a plethora of tapestries draped along the walls, all of which, Nori found, made him feel rather small.  Never having been there before, all he knew about the Halls of Mandos was what he had learned from others, and every description he’d ever heard fell utterly short.  He knew that the halls had grown increasingly larger over time to accommodate more souls, and that Lady Vairë, the wife of Lord Mandos, had made all of the tapestries herself.  The intricate detail woven into every fiber was meant to depict every event in the history of the world from the very beginning.  He guessed that was why there were so many of them, and why they were so huge. 

Nori asked no questions, but continued to follow Nienna silently through the halls, until at last they came face to face with Vairë herself, waiting for them in a corner beside one of her many tapestries.

“Welcome, Nori, Maia of the sea,” she greeted him.  “I want to show you something.”

She drew his attention to a portion depicting a dwarrowdam--a lady dwarf, sitting alone in her empty home.

“Many years ago,” she began, “this dwarrowdam longed for children, but for her such a fate was not to be.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Nori said, though he wondered why she was telling him this.

“Every dwarrow soul that passes through these halls may potentially return to Arda to live a new life, to be reborn in a new body, if it is judged to be the correct course to take.”  Vairë’s fingers traced the outline of the stitched image, running her fingers across the smooth fabric surrounding it.  “There is room here for more.  Three more.  Three sons.”

“These are dark days,” Nori said sadly.  “I hate to think of what it would be like for a parent to have children at a time such as this, the world being in the state that it’s in.”

“A time such as this?” Vairë said, staring at Nori almost witheringly, but then she actually smiled.  “There is not yet a tapestry made for present events.  Did you not hear me when I said that she lived many years ago?  Her history has already been written.  I intend to rewrite it.”

Nori’s eyebrows shot up.  “You can do that?”

“In this case?  Yes.”  She extended her hand to welcome the arrival of two approaching dwarves.

“You are not far from my train of thought, Nori,” Vairë continued.  “The future of these dark days has already been glimpsed: these dwarves were fated to be born in days soon to come, but neither would have survived to reach adulthood.  Their lives will have been in vain.  That is why I have chosen their souls for this new purpose.”

Nori nodded, thinking he understood: she intended to have them be born in the past instead, to the childless dwarrowdam.

“But wait..didn’t you say she was to have three sons?  Where is the third?”

As if on cue, the sound of thunderous footsteps resonated through the halls, heralding the arrival of Lord Aulë, the monumentally tall and muscular smith of the Valar, carrying a stone statue in his giant hands.

“Great Mahal!” exclaimed the two dwarves, dropping to their knees.

He set the statue down on the marble floor in front of Nori, allowing him to view it up close.  Its features looked similar to those that Nori had chosen for his own physical form, only more...dwarf-like.

“I carved this to be your earthly vessel,” the Vala said in his deep, rumbling voice.

Nori’s eyes widened.  He looked up at Aulë.

“I’m sorry...my  _ vessel _ ?  I don’t follow.”

“My child,” Nienna spoke up at last, “we have brought you here because we believe there is a chance that the dark forces of the world can be overthrown.”

“Every person plays a part in the history of the world,” Vairë explained.  “If you succeed, certain events will have transpired differently than they would have without your involvement, and this darkness that now covers the world will have never happened.”

As wonderful as that sounded, Nori didn’t see how it could be true.  How could one insignificant Maia of the sea make any real difference?

And even if he could, why did he have to become a dwarf?

Nori drew nearer to the statue.  He felt its face, running his hand over its large forehead, its sharp nose, its piercing eyes gazing back at him lifelessly.

“You may find it suits your purpose far better than you thought,” Aulë said encouragingly.

“You will not be alone,” said Nienna.  “You will have your brothers with you throughout much of your life, and they will provide the guidance you will need, if you will but let them.”

Nori looked up at Aulë, then Vairë, then Nienna.  “Why me?  Why not someone else?”

“Because,” Nienna said, “the one you love is also involved.”

Nori couldn’t hold back the gasp from escaping his lips.  “The hobbit?  You mean...I will see him again?”

“Yes,” said Vairë.  “But you will not remember him.”

Nori’s face fell.

“You will not remember anything from your time as a Maia.  Your power will be diminished as well, but you may yet learn how to use it again, in some small way.”

“Your heart will retain a glimmer of the feeling you felt when you first saw him,” Nienna said.  “You will be drawn to him as much as you were the first time.”

They seemed to be leaving him fewer and fewer reasons to say no...and that actually scared him.  The very idea of leaving behind his life as a Maia to become a dwarf...of dispensing with his intended purpose to pursue something different…

_ “Any act that is not in accordance with one’s intended purpose is an act of rebellion.” _ Weren’t those Ulmo’s exact words?  What would he say if he were here?  Was his opinion even necessary, with three other Valar right here urging Nori to do it?  Were they deliberately excluding Ulmo because they knew he would object?  Were they just as guilty of rebellion, themselves?

With Sauron out there destroying the world, did any of these concerns even matter?

Evidently sensing his decision, Vairë waved a hand across the blank space on the tapestry, causing a vertical tear to form down the middle, and the folds of fabric parted like a curtain, revealing a doorway of light.  She beckoned one of the dwarves forward, and he walked through the passage into the brilliant light, casting a silhouette for only a brief moment before vanishing from sight altogether.

The other dwarf proceeded to follow, but stopped when Vairë held up a hand, palm outward.

“Not yet.  You will be last.”  Then, looking to the Maia, “Nori?”

_ Well, _ he thought,  _ here I go. _

He released his physical form, letting his corporeal body dissipate and become pure Maia, then he engulfed the statue.  He infused it with his spirit, pervading the entirety of its volume, bringing life to lifeless stone and changing it to the sturdy, rugged flesh of a dwarf.

“That’s it,” Aulë said with a smile.  “This shall be your body henceforth.  Now…”  He motioned to the illuminated doorway.  “...to be born.”

Nori propelled his new mortal vessel into motion and strode towards the doorway to the past.

“Rebellion,” he whispered, and stepped through.


	2. Chapter 2

Every dwarf had a secret name, and with it a duty to ensure that name would never be revealed to anyone of a non-dwarf race.  Since dwarves so often had dealings with Men, and sometime even elves, it became necessary to adopt a supplementary name to identify themselves for such transactions.  These names were usually chosen by the individual dwarves themselves, usually while they were still children.

The elder of two brother dwarves had a name in mind for himself, but the younger brother had thought of one too: “Nori”.

The elder brother protested: “But brothers’ names are supposed to rhyme with each other.  Nori doesn’t rhyme with the name I thought of.  I’m older, so I should get to pick.”

He didn’t care; he  _ had _ to have the name Nori.  He didn’t know why, he didn’t even remember where he had heard it or what had made him come up with it.  He just felt that it suited him.

Finally the elder brother relented and let him have the name Nori, if he really wanted it that badly.  He took the name Dori for himself in order to adhere to the tradition of brother dwarves with rhyming names.

Some years later, another brother was born, and he took the name Ori.  Thus, the three of them came to be known as The Brothers Ri.

 

* * * * *

 

Even from a very young age, Nori knew that he was different.

There didn’t seem to be any one, single thing that he was good at.

As far as he could tell, other dwarves didn’t appear to have any trouble when it came to choosing a craft, or honing a skill in a particular field that was customary for dwarves.  Nori didn’t have it quite so easy.

He lacked any real competence for metalwork, and he wasn’t interested in mining.  The whole idea of boring into the earth for treasures was exactly that-- _ boring _ .  He didn’t have the aptitude for toymaking, an occupation his friend Bofur had learned from his cousin Bifur, or the knack for cooking like Bombur, Bofur’s brother.  He  _ wished _ he had the same kind of artistic talent that his little brother Ori had, especially when it came to writing and drawing pictures, but that turned out to be yet another area where he wasn’t suited.

For a time he actually served as an apprentice for Mister Oin, the healer, and even though it made him feel good to know that he was helping people, he soon found that the whole laborious process involved in using your hands to heal someone who was hurt was a lot more painstaking than it looked at first.

“And just how else would ya heal someone besides usin’ yer  _ hands _ , Master Nori?” the grey-haired old dwarf spluttered in exasperation.  “Yer feet?”

“No, that…” Nori stammered.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did ya mean, then?  I’d really like to know.”

“Uh...well…”

“Honestly, these young types, always thinkin’ they know a better way.  Gives me a headache.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Oin.  I don’t mean to cause you any bother.  I’ll get out of your way.”

“No, don’ go, lad.  I didna mean it.  I already had a headache before you came in.  It’s this incessant ringing in my ears.”

“Is there something you’d like me to do?  Help you mix ointments?”

“No, I’ll mix ‘em.  You just sit there and sing for me.  Yer singin’ always makes me feel better.”

 

* * * * *

 

It was getting dark.  Another day had come and gone.  He’d be returning home empty-handed, having earned not a single coin that day.  He’d have to face his brothers, endure their looks of disappointment, and in Dori’s case, ever-growing resentment.  He’d have to sit and hear a lecture about how he never contributed anything to the household, how it wasn’t fair for him to constantly depend on his brothers for support, how he would find a purpose if only he would apply himself and show some real dedication for a change.

And, of course, he would be accused of being “lazy”.

He  _ hated _ that word.

More to the point, he hated that his older brother, the person whom he loved probably more than anyone else in the world, actually had that opinion of him.

It wasn’t always that way.  There was a time when Dori would have demonstrated a lot more patience and understanding for Nori, but that time had passed.  At the rate things were going, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if one day, Dori just threw him out.

He trudged on sullenly through the streets of town, having failed yet again at finding any work.  It was one of the towns of Men built near the borders of Ered Luin, the dwarven kingdom where The Brothers Ri lived.  It was easy to pass through this sort of place unnoticed, as Men tended not to pay much mind to dwarves in general.  As he ambled by a pair of Men standing outside the inn and talking to each other, he noticed that one of them, the one with his back turned to Nori, had a small coin pouch hanging from his belt, just below Nori’s eyeline.  Without thinking, Nori reached for it, pulled it off, and kept walking.

His heart pounded like an iron hammer.  He tried his best to concentrate on keeping an even pace, despite his urge to break into a run.  He dared not look back.  He expected to hear a shouting voice and running footsteps any moment, but no such sounds ever came.

The closer he got to home, the giddier he felt.  Had he actually  _ stolen _ something from somebody?  And  _ gotten away _ with it?  So much for arriving home empty-handed.  Dori would want to know what he’d done to earn it, of course.  Nori would have to become a liar, as well as a thief.  Fat chance of that lasting very long.  As apt to pry as Dori was, he always managed to coax out the truth sooner or later.

For the moment, Nori tightened his grasp on the coin pouch he had stuffed up under his armpit, relishing the feeling of accomplishment.  It worried him...he couldn’t go on like this, taking things that didn’t belong to him.  He knew it was wrong, and he would surely be caught eventually if he kept doing it.

The coin pouch was just the first of many things that Nori would steal as time went by.  The fear of getting caught lessened each time, but so too did the giddy rush.  Thievery simply became a habit for Nori, or a hobby, perhaps.

 

* * * * *

 

Nori stood in front of a cracked mirror, admiring his fractured reflection as he combed through his long, red hair with a bent fork.

A second later he spun around in surprise as the door to the shed abruptly opened and Dori stepped in.  Nori concealed the utensil behind his back and smiled sheepishly.  Dori scowled, his eyes roaming over the whole interior of Nori’s secret shed that was not so secret anymore, surveying the myriad scattering of items covering every inch of space.  In one corner there was an assortment of pots, pans, and tea kettles piled together, beside a small table laden with such random items as a candlestick, a spool of thread, a brass goblet, an hourglass, and a crossbow.  There were some tattered, old books stacked on the floor and a fishing pole and a spade leaning against the wall.  Several pipes (but no leaf) lay in a row on a shelf, and there were several leather bags, boots, and slippers strewn all about the floor.

“Nori…”  Dori held out his hands in front of him, palms up.  “What  _ is _ all this?”

“Well, it’s...my collection.”

“Your  _ collection _ ?”

Ori poked his head timidly out from behind Dori’s large frame.

Nori frowned.  “I see you back there, you rascal.  Don’t try to hide.  You promised you wouldn’t tell him!”

“Don’t yell at me,” Ori said, stepping into view.  “Besides, I didn’t mean to tell, it was an accident!”

“Still up to your old habits, I see,” Dori said, squinting balefully at Nori.

“No, Dori,” Ori said, moving to stand between his two older brothers inside of the small shed.  “It isn’t like that.  None of these things are stolen.  He  _ found _ all of them.”

“Oh, honestly, you don’t really believe that, do you?  You can’t possibly be that naive.”

“It’s the truth,” Nori said defiantly.  He picked up a small, wooden horse from where it sat next to an actual horse’s bridle, and waved it around.  “You think I would steal something like this?  A child’s toy?  You think I would rob a child?  What kind of monster do you think I am?  At least give me  _ some _ credit, brother dear.”

“Say…”  Ori reached for the object.  “Mister Bifur said he was looking for that.”

Nori yanked it away.  “Yes, well, I happen to like it, is that such a crime?”

Dori folded his arms.  “All right, then, so you  _ found _ all of these items.  In that case, I suppose you won’t mind if I load them all into a cart and deposit them in the middle of town so that all the townsfolk can paw through everything and retrieve whatever belongs to them.  I’m sure they’ll be  _ grateful _ to you for  _ finding _ their lost items.”

“N-no...don’t--”

Dori nodded.  “I thought so.”  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Nori, we can’t go on like this.  I can’t keep bailing you out every time you get in trouble with the law, and very soon Dwalin isn’t going to be around any longer to make sure the other guards are lenient with you.”

Nori cocked an eyebrow.  “Where’s he going?”

“Erebor,” Ori answered.  “He and Thorin and Balin and some others.”

“Apparently Gandalf the Grey convinced Thorin that now is the time to take back the Lonely Mountain from the dragon,” Dori explained.  “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

“And we’re going too,” Ori stated rather gaily.

“We?  As in…”

“As in you, me, and Ori,” Dori finished for him.  “It’ll be good for us, you especially.  This way, maybe you’ll learn the value of earning something honestly for a change, and as much gold as there is to be had in Erebor, the reward for this venture will far exceed the investment and expended effort.”

Dori took Ori by the arm and guided him out of the shed.  “I suppose I’ll let you say your goodbyes to all of your treasures before you’re parted from them,” he said to Nori on their way out.  “Oh, yes, I was serious about taking them into town.  I’ll let you leave first, of course, before I do that.  Give you a couple hours’ head start.  I wouldn’t want you to be swarmed by an angry mob.  I can’t imagine you would be much good on the quest if both of your hands had been chopped off.”

Once his brothers were gone, Nori picked up a small trinket off of a nearby shelf: a pewter ornament shaped like a starfish and attached to a chain, most likely meant to be worn as a necklace.  He traced the outline of the ornament absentmindedly with his fingers, looking at himself in the mirror once again.

Erebor.  So far away.  How long would it take to get there?  Months, no doubt.

He looked down at the ornament in his hands.  He’d never seen a real starfish before, he’d merely heard of the simple creatures that could be found in the tidepools along the seaside.  A part of him had always wanted to visit the seaside, he’d simply never spoken about it because...well...it was an odd thing for a dwarf to want to do.  He’d never ventured very far from the mountains before.  Soon at last he would be venturing far, but eastward, in the opposite direction of the seashore.

Nori held the starfish necklace up higher, close to his face, closing one eye and looking at it so that it blocked his view of his own head in the mirror.  Suddenly an idea came to him.

_ You’ve always been odd, Nori, _ he thought to himself.   _ Why not see how far you can take it? _

 

* * * * *

 

“Wait for us!” Ori called out, trotting forward to meet the others and leaving his brothers trailing along behind him.  Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were just arriving at the front gate of the hobbit’s smial at the same time as Oin and Gloin, as well as the wizard Gandalf himself.  Even from a distance, Nori could see the glowing rune scratched onto the front door by the wizard’s staff, placed there to let all the dwarves know where they could expect to find supper and accommodations for the night.

Bofur’s eyes grew wide when he noticed Nori walking up to the gate.

“What have you done to your hair?”

The other dwarves all turned towards him with similar expressions on their faces.

Nori had styled his hair so that it stuck out flamboyantly in three distinct, triangular points--one on top, with two more on either side--which, along with the three braided sections of his beard hanging below his cheeks and chin, created a look that resembled the starfish necklace from which he had drawn inspiration.

“Isn’t it something?” he said with a grin, running his hand along one of the smooth, meticulously combed points.  “It’s a new style I invented.  The way I see it, once we retake Erebor and all the dwarves from the Iron Hills return to the kingdom, they’ll all be so impressed by our bravery and admire us so much that they’ll want to emulate us.  So I thought, why not take the opportunity to become a trendsetter?  Just wait, pretty soon everybody in Erebor will be wearing their hair like this.  Well...what do you think?”

No one said anything.  Bofur looked questioningly at Dori, who responded merely by shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Bifur made the Iglishmek hand signal for “I like it!” and laughed.

Ultimately, the dwarves cared less about Nori’s hair than their own stomachs, and they crowded close to the round, green door, each of them wanting to be the first to get inside and help himself to a plate or six of free food.

“Ring the bell!” Bombur demanded.  “I’m starvin’ to death!”

Their host answered, causing all eight of them to tumble forward in a pile as the door swung open.  Several grunts and groans were emitted as one by one they hauled themselves to their feet, and Nori found himself standing face to face with their hobbit host.

He was cute.

He was scowling up at Gandalf, but then his expression seemed to soften a little when his eyes met Nori’s.  Neither said a word.  It was almost as if they recognized each other from a time they met before, but couldn’t remember where or when.

Or maybe he was just stunned by the hair.

Either way, the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and Nori was running down the hall with the others to raid the hobbit’s pantry and lay out a feast for themselves in the dining room.

 

* * * * *

 

It was  _ preposterous _ .

The very idea, of leaving on a quest with a bunch of dwarves he’d only just met, being a burglar, facing a  _ dragon _ , for goodness’ sake…

What could Gandalf have possibly been thinking to believe that he, Bilbo Baggins, was in any way, by any stretch of the imagination, the right person for such a job?

“Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this,” he said, setting aside both the dwarves’ contract and his cup of tea, and standing up out of his armchair.  “You’ve got the wrong hobbit.”

He walked out of the room, down the hallway and into his bedroom, and sat at the edge of the bed for a little while just listening to the crackling flames in the fireplace.  He could hear the soft murmur of the dwarves’ voices coming from the parlor.  Soon enough, he realized they were humming a melody.  One of them began to sing:

“Far over the Misty Mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old, we must away, ere break of day, to find our long-forgotten gold…”

It was Thorin, their leader, the one with the exceptionally deep voice.  He was a good singer, Bilbo had to admit.

The other dwarves started in on the second verse: “The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night…”

Bilbo’s heart was suddenly seized by a feeling he couldn’t even begin to describe.

That voice...it couldn’t be…

One of  _ them _ ?

No, of course not, that was absurd.  There were thirteen of them, all singing in unison.  He was mistaken.

Of course, there was a way he could know for sure…

_ Certainly, Bilbo, that’s a splendid idea, _ he thought.   _ Just go in there, why don’t you, and ask them to sing for you, one at a time, just to prove to yourself that it’s impossible, not to mention ridiculous, as if it weren’t already plainly evident. _

“The fire was red, it flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light…”

The feeling in Bilbo’s heart remained.  His leery attitude towards the dwarves began to abate.  Maybe he’d misjudged them.  Maybe they weren’t so bad after all.  Even if they had made pigs of themselves and devoured every last morsel that Bilbo had in his home, at least they had cleaned up after themselves, after their big feast.

Maybe Gandalf was right.  Maybe it would be a good thing for him to experience something outside of his normal, comfortable life for a change.

No.   _ No _ .  He’d already made up his mind.  He would not, he  _ could not _ be a part of this quest…


	3. Chapter 3

**_Weeks later..._ **

 

“Hello there, Bilbo,” said one of the dwarves pleasantly, urging his pony forward so that he and the hobbit were riding alongside of each other.

“Good day, Bofur,” he responded.

“Know any good songs?”

“Songs?” Bilbo repeated with a puzzled look.

“Aye.  Haven’t heard much more’n a peep from you these last few days, thought you were probably thinkin’ about life back home.  You hobbits must have plenty o’ songs you like to sing together, drinkin’ songs and such?”

“Well…”

“Ah,” Bofur said with a grin, “I thought so.  Come on now, what’s your favorite?”

Bilbo looked around to see if any of the other dwarves were within earshot.  Most of them were riding either too far behind or too far ahead to really be able to hear him, so long as he kept his voice low enough--all except Nori, that is, whose pony was ambling along just a few yards directly behind Bilbo’s and Bofur’s.  The red-haired dwarf offered a small smile to Bilbo and waved genially.

Bilbo smiled shyly and waved back.  He hesitated for only a moment before deciding that he didn’t mind if Nori heard him.  Turning back to Bofur, he said, “As a matter of fact, there’s one that I wrote myself.”

“Did you really?  Well then, let’s hear it!”

“It’s silly,” Bilbo said, blushing slightly.  “Just something ridiculous I came up with when I was young and foolish.”

“The more ridiculous the better, I say,” Bofur encouraged.  “You’ve heard some of the songs we like to sing, you know they’re not the least bit serious.  Well, most of them aren’t, anyway.”

“All right,” Bilbo relented, “it goes like this: There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill…”

 

* * *

 

"...and there they brew a beer so brown, the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill."

The other dwarves joined in the fun, clanging their utensils and wine goblets together and singing with Bofur in an upbeat, celebratory manner.  There was certainly reason enough to celebrate, considering the ordeal they had been through and managed to survive in just the last twenty-four hours.  As if nearly being eaten by a trio of fearsome yet dim-witted trolls hadn’t been enough, they’d also had the misfortune of losing their ponies right before encountering a pack of swift and equally terrifying orcs and wargs.  Had it not been for the elves...

Gandalf had led them to safety in the Hidden Valley, to Rivendell, where Lord Elrond had invited them to dinner.

"Oh, the ostler has a tipsy cat that played a five-stringed fiddle, and up and down he saws his bow, now squeaking high...now purring low...now sawing in the middle."

Bofur was dancing atop a small stone plinth while he sang the song he'd learned from Bilbo, and the other dwarves began throwing their food across the tables as they were wont to do, much to the vexation of Lord Elrond's servants and the elf musicians who, up until the interruption, had been playing for them a gentle, serene melody, which Nori had said made him feel like he was at a funeral.

"So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a drink that'll wake the dead, he squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, and the landlord shook the Man in the Moon, 'It's after three!' he said!"

The dwarves laughed and cheered and continued hurling food with added zeal, meanwhile Bilbo kept his head down, hoping not to be hit by anything.

To think, that only one day had passed since Bilbo had taught Bofur the words to this song, and even if he’d altered it slightly here and there, one thing could be said about Bofur for sure: he did have a rather good singing voice.  But, Bilbo concluded, it was definitely not the voice he'd heard on his thirty-third birthday.

 _Bilbo Baggins, you silly fool,_ he silently chided himself with a small shake of the head. _When will you ever dispense with the belief that you were rescued and sung to by some mysterious man swimming out in the open sea during a thunderstorm, as if such things ever actually happen?  Real as it may have seemed at the time, you were clearly off your head, and can hardly be blamed for it either._

And therein lay the problem Bilbo faced: What was his purpose for coming along on this adventure in the first place?

He remembered the giddy rush he’d felt the morning he ran out his door with the contract in hand; that rush of excitement over the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t imagining things and the voice he had heard singing with all the other dwarves in the parlor the night before really _was_ the voice of the mystery man.  Even after so many years had passed, (eighteen, to be precise; he was nearly fifty-one now,) the memory of that voice and that day on the shore was still so vivid in Bilbo’s mind, whether or not it had actually been real.  If nothing else, it brought back memories of the carefree days of his youth, when the prospect of an adventure such as this would have been greatly enticing, an invitation he’d have gladly accepted.

For these reasons he had abandoned all rational thinking and joined a quest; a perilous journey which, as time passed, he had begun to see more and more that he was unfit to be a part of.  All because he couldn’t let go of the notion that the mystery man might in fact be real, nor resist the temptation of possibly being reunited with him, if only he could figure out which one of the thirteen dwarves was _the_ one.

That was weeks ago.  Bilbo had regained enough good sense to see the absurdity of it all, and to realize that he had no true place in this company, and was wrong to ever believe he did.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Nori took to wandering alone through the many halls and chambers of the house of Elrond, carrying his knapsack along with him.  Pausing briefly to look around, checking first to make sure that there were no elves in sight, he snatched a shiny silver candelabra off of the edge of a nearby table and stashed it inside of his pack, then leisurely slung the bag over his shoulder and proceeded on his merry way.

There, that would likely satisfy his compulsive urge, for a little while at least.

He came to a large archway leading to an outdoor terrace overlooking the valley below and leaned against one of the pillars.  The sound of rushing waterfalls outside had just begun to lure him into a state of relaxed euphoria--water often had that effect on him--when suddenly that feeling was interrupted by the sound of someone’s voice overhead.

“Not with your companions?”

Nori spun around, expecting to see Lord Elrond standing over him, demanding an explanation for the candelabra in his bag, but no one was there.

He surveyed the empty room with a puzzled frown.  “What?” he muttered under his breath.  “Where did…”

“I shan’t be missed.”

That was Bilbo’s voice.  Nori looked outside again, and realized that the sound of their voices had come from a balcony one floor above, where Bilbo and the elf lord were standing and speaking to each other.  As far as he could tell, neither of them could see Nori where he stood.

“The truth is most of them don’t think I should be on this journey,” Bilbo said.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Nori was finally able to work up the nerve to approach Bilbo, and he did so right after breakfast while the Company was stowing all of their supplies for the day’s journey ahead.  Nori’s bag was already packed.  He stood near Bilbo, who was busy rolling up his bedroll, and as such didn’t take notice of Nori at first.  The dwarf twiddled his fingers awkwardly, straining to remember any of the opening lines he’d rehearsed.  He wanted to let Bilbo know that it wasn’t true, what he said to Elrond; that he did have a place in the Company, that he did have friends, that most of them did think he belonged with them on this journey, even if they never said it out loud.

Instead, he found himself saying the first thing that came to his mind.

“I know how you feel.”

Bilbo looked up at him.  “What?”

Nori let out a sigh and sat down beside him.  “The truth is, I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong.”

Bilbo ceased what he was doing and set the bedroll aside, but remained in a squatted position on the ground with his hands resting on his thighs, looking at Nori curiously.

“I heard what you said to Elrond,” Nori explained.  “Yesterday on the balcony.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, smirking and looking away.  “You were eavesdropping.”

“No, not dropping any eaves.  I just...I spent years struggling to figure out where I fit in in the Blue Mountains.  I went from one trade to the next, tried one craft after another, never having much success with any of it.  Until finally…”

“You resorted to stealing?”

Nori stopped speaking, the feelings of mild embarrassment and hurt evident by the look on his face. Bilbo’s expression and tone became immediately regretful and apologetic.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to...it’s just that...I heard from Dori…”

The dwarf nodded.  “It’s all right.  And it’s true, I do steal.  I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I can’t seem to help it.  Sometimes I feel so…”  He sighed again.  “I don’t know, resentful, I guess.  And part of me just wants to rebel.”

“Rebel?  Against what?”

“Everything.  The whole world.”

Bilbo blinked a few times, but didn’t say anything.

“But none of that matters,” Nori said.  “The point is, I just have to learn to accept that I don’t belong anywhere.”

Bilbo gave him a quizzical look.  “How can that be?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Nori shrugged.  “I’m odd.  That’s just the way it is.”

“Odd?” Bilbo said.  “ _You’re_ considered _odd_?”

Nori made an amused face.  “Are you really expecting me to believe you couldn’t tell?”  He pointed at his ridiculous hairdo.  “Based on this alone?”

Bilbo let out a huff of laughter, and gave a quick glance at the other dwarves who were busy packing their belongings before looking back at Nori.  “Well, of course your hair is odd _to me_.”  He held up his hands in a gesture of innocent ignorance.  “I know nothing about dwarven culture.  I’m a hobbit.  How am I supposed to know what sets any of you apart?  Take a look at Bofur’s hair, for one.  His pigtails remind me of a little hobbit lass.”

That got a laugh out of Nori, which Bilbo joined in on.

“Best not to let him hear you say that,” Nori advised.

“Say...isn’t Bofur your friend?  Certainly, I’ve seen you two talk to each other plenty of times.  He cares about you.  How can you say you don’t belong anywhere when you’ve got someone like him?  And your brothers?  Even Dwalin, I’ve heard, looks out for you.”

“I suppose.  It’s one thing, though, to have others care about you, and quite another to feel like you’re a burden who’s done little to earn any of it.”

After a few moments of thoughtful silence had passed, Bilbo placed a hand on Nori’s shoulder and met his eyes with a look of utmost sincerity.

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty to earn their esteem,” he said.  “Probably a lot more than you even realize.”

Nori stared back at him with a look of mild surprise, not quite knowing what to say, but secretly appreciating his gentle touch, nonetheless.

“And anyway, real love isn’t something you earn, Nori.  Not the way you’re thinking it is.  You deserve to have others care about you, just because...because you’re you.  You’re Nori.”

A small smile appeared on the dwarf’s lips, and he slowly raised a hand up to Bilbo’s and closed his fingers around it.

The heartfelt moment was cut short by Thorin’s booming voice: “On your feet, all of you.  The sun is on the rise.  We must make haste away from this place before anyone realizes we’ve gone.”

Bilbo and Nori obeyed his orders, along with everyone else, and rose to a standing position together.

“Oh!” Nori exclaimed before they’d even taken a single step.  “I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry?” said Bilbo.  “For what?”

“The whole reason I wanted to speak to you was to try to encourage you and make you feel better after what I heard you say to Elrond, but instead we spent the whole time talking about me!”

Bilbo laughed goodnaturedly.  “It’s all right.  Actually, you did help me.”

“I did?  How?”

“Trust me, you did.  And besides,” he added with a fond smile, “I feel honored that you confided in me.”

Nori let out a small laugh that came out as a single puff of air, and the edges of his eyes crinkled in a bashful smile.  “Not at all.  The honor is mine.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo set out that day with a fresh perspective of things.  Up until then he never would have guessed that someone like Nori would be regarded as being any different from the others.  They were all cut from the same cloth (or carved from the same stone, perhaps) as far as he was able to tell.  It only served to demonstrate the truth of the old saying, “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

Bilbo understood what it was like to feel alienated, as he too was considered odd among his own folk, and as such he had grown accustomed to living a mostly solitary life in the years since his parents died, but even so, at least he had a place to call home, as well as a life untroubled by the need to depend on the opinions and approval of others.  He knew he'd been granted good fortune in that regard.  It made him think of another old saying from a book belonging to his father that was written in Elvish; in the common tongue it translated to: “What grace is given me, let it pass to him.”  He didn’t pity Nori, but he did wish there was more he could do to help him.  If nothing else, he at least wanted to be his friend, for whatever it was worth.  In fact, it startled him to realize that he no longer cared whether his “dream man” really existed, or if he had simply survived from almost drowning by nothing more than chance; the important thing was that he had remained alive, and would never have gotten the chance to meet Nori if he hadn’t, and for that he was grateful.

Looking over his shoulder one last time as the Company began to scale the mountain path, seeing Rivendell diminish into the distance as they ventured forth away from the Valley, Bilbo still felt the same doubts, still didn’t see just what a simple hobbit like him could possibly do to help the dwarves’ cause.

All he knew was that now, because of Nori, he at least wanted to try.


	4. Chapter 4

No one had any clue how he did it.

How Bilbo, who had proven himself to be more resourceful than anyone would have guessed, had not only somehow gotten past the goblins in the Misty Mountains, but also had managed to pass unseen through the halls of the Woodland Realm and free the dwarves from the Elvenking’s dungeon.

As for his crazy idea to escape by riding down the river in barrels?  That was pure genius.

But now he was missing.

Thorin called out his name, but no response came.  Nori was calling him too, and a couple of the others were as well, but Nori’s voice was the loudest, and the most frantic.  At last he spotted Bilbo floating face down near some rocks, and ran to him in a frenzy of dread, splashing in the water of the river, turning him over as soon as he could get his hands on him.  Bilbo was unconscious.

“Bilbo!” Nori cried, holding him close.  “Bilbo, wake up!  Wake up, Bilbo, please!”

He didn’t stir.  Cradling his head, Nori let out a loud, anguished sob, sounding almost like a mournful song reaching its crescendo.

Bilbo’s eyes opened.  Nori was silent.  He and Bilbo stared at each other in disbelief, neither one quite sure of what just happened, but both of them were struck by a feeling that something like this had happened before...

Unfortunately, before either of them had so much as a moment to think on it, that moment was interrupted by Thorin reminding all of them that a pack of orcs was still after them and they needed to get moving, quickly.

 

*

 

It was such a relief to finally get to take some rest and relaxation and enjoy a rare evening of merrymaking--for most of the dwarves, at least.  They had reached Lake-town, and planned to set out for Erebor the following day, but for tonight, they were being honored at a welcoming party hosted by the Master in his house.  For Nori, this free time merely gave him the means to brood.

Bilbo and Thorin were speaking privately, amiably, seated near a window, each with a goblet of wine in hand.  Thorin was indeed grateful for Bilbo’s words of support, vouching for him to the Master of Lake-town, and in fact he had warmed up to Bilbo substantially ever since the Carrock after the incident with the pack of orcs and wargs.

Nori sat alone, clear on the other side of the room, removed from the festivities.  Every now and then he would glance sullenly over at Bilbo and Thorin, then away.

Dori came and sat with him, reckoning it was time for a brother-to-brother talk.  He knew how much Nori cared about Bilbo.  It was Nori, after all, who first noticed that Bilbo had gone missing when they were collared by the goblins in the Misty Mountains.  Also he had seen how Nori had tried to hold onto Bilbo as they were swept away by the river during their great escape from the elves, struggling in vain to pull him into his barrel with him before they became separated.  He noticed how close Nori sat to Bilbo, both on Bard’s barge and then again in his house, still wanting to ensure Bilbo was all right after the river, but not saying much else besides.  Now Nori was more quiet than ever, and Dori wondered why.

“Bilbo deserves better,” Nori responded quietly.

Dori frowned.  “Better?  Better than what?”

“Better than me.  Who am I fooling?” Nori said with a shrug. "Why would anyone who's found favor with a king have any interest in a good-for-nothing thief?”

"Well...he is a burglar..."

"I'm serious!" Nori snapped, shooting Dori a dirty look.

"So am I!" Dori shot back.  "Do you really think he cares about riches and royalty?  We're  _all_ going to get rich if this quest is a success, remember?  And don't forget, we may be only distantly related to Thorin, but we're sons of Durin, too."

Nori scoffed and looked away.  "I can never talk to you about anything."

Dori was silent for a moment, before letting out a sigh and saying, “Do you know why I wanted to bring you along on this journey?  Besides the treasure, I mean.  I really hoped it would help you realize your true inner worth.  You are as honorable a dwarf as any other in this company, holding your own in support of the group every step of the way.  I know everyone would agree with me about that, especially Bilbo.  Nori, if you absolutely must undervalue yourself so severely, then so be it...but maybe, just for the sake of variety, you might put your own judgment of yourself aside for a short while and try to see yourself through Bilbo's eyes instead.  If you won't give yourself any credit, then at least give him some.”

And with those parting words, Dori stood up and left Nori sitting alone once again.

 

*

 

Bilbo also noticed Nori’s quiet closeness at the aforementioned times, reflecting also on what a dear and caring friend he’d been ever since their talk in Rivendell.  In fact, if he thought about it, ever since the quest started, there was something about Nori--something remarkable--and furthermore something about the way he _felt_ about Nori, that he couldn’t quite name...though he certainly knew what he _wanted_ to name it.

They would have to have another talk again, soon.  Bilbo looked forward to it.

Meanwhile, though, more important matters took priority.  First they had the dragon, Smaug, to contend with, and once he was slain by Bard, it was up to Bilbo to address the noticeable change that had come over Thorin ever since they entered the mountain.  Thorin wouldn’t sleep, he would barely eat, and his ceaseless demand that the Company keep searching through piles of treasure until they found the Arkenstone (which Bilbo had already found and secretly concealed in the pocket of his coat) was causing Bilbo more than a little worry.  Would it be better to give it to Thorin, or would that only send him further into madness, as Balin said?

Thorin considered Bilbo a true friend, after all...But what was a true friend to do?

 

*

 

The Battle of Five Armies, a horror beyond words, resulted in a tremendous amount of bloodshed and cost many lives before it was over, including the lives of Fili, Kili, and Thorin.  Bilbo sat beside Thorin’s lifeless body, sobbing.  The other dwarves--those that survived--found them there on Ravenhill: a grief-stricken hobbit, and their king, slain by Azog the pale orc.

Nori, mistaking Bilbo’s tears over the loss of a friend for the tears of a lover, suddenly swelled with a sense of purpose.  He suddenly felt sure of himself in a way that didn’t seem possible, that made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense.  His mind flooded with memories of a life that he couldn’t have lived, of things that couldn’t have happened, of an existence full of enchantment the likes of which no mortal could begin to comprehend.

Everything else aside, all that mattered to him in that moment was that he couldn’t bear to see Bilbo feeling so much pain, and was willing to do anything to make him happy again, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

Maybe this was it.  Maybe his life was always meant to lead up to this moment, when at last, lacking any other true talent, he would finally get to make a real difference.

Realizing at last the mysterious power of his voice--though it still remained beyond his comprehension--he slowly approached, kneeling beside the king’s body and allowing the words of the Ancient Song to spring from deep inside and pour out of his lips.  The others stared at him in confusion, never having heard such a song before.  Even Nori was unfamiliar with the words he was singing.

Thorin’s eyes opened.  He was still badly wounded, and needed to be tended to, but he was alive.

Astonished beyond comprehension, everyone who witnessed this miracle was rendered speechless.  Nori didn’t have much to say either.  Instead, the group focused on summoning helpers and healers to tend to Thorin and bring him safely inside the mountain.

The elf, Tauriel, arrived on the scene, carrying Kili’s lifeless body in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Everyone looked again to Nori.  Could he repeat the miracle he just performed?

Tauriel set him down gently in the snow, and Nori demonstrated with just a few simple notes that yes, he could...much to the elf’s amazement and gratitude.

“Fili,” Kili whispered hoarsely between coughs.  “Fili...we have to find Fili...”

And find Fili they did, though by now his body was nearly frozen in the snow.  Was it too late?  Bringing him back would likely require more magic than was needed for Thorin and Kili; possibly more than Nori had to give.

Nori stumbled while descending the slopes to the spot where Fili’s body lay; Bilbo reached out and caught him just in time.  The others had gone ahead, already arriving at Fili’s side, while Nori, feeling weaker and more tired than he felt only moments earlier, had trailed along behind, with Bilbo remaining at his side.  Nori looked haggard and worn-down.

“You can’t do this,” Bilbo said, placing a hand on Nori’s chest.  “I don’t know how you did it for Thorin and Kili, but...I’m afraid for you.  I’m worried that you’re not strong enough.”

“I don’t know how I did it either,” Nori said softly, his voice little more than a whisper.  “But I can’t save Kili and not Fili.  Just...one more time.  One more time.”

“What if one more time is one time too many?” Bilbo said.

Nori didn’t answer him.  He reached Fili and knelt by his side, drew a deep breath, and used every ounce of energy he had to sing the younger dwarf back to life.  Fili’s eyes fluttered open just as Nori’s fluttered shut.  His singing ceased, and he fell backward into the snow.

“Nori!” Bilbo cried, taking his hand.  Nori treasured the feeling of the hobbit’s touch in the last fleeting moments before he drifted away, his Maia power having drained the last ounce of life from him.  Or perhaps the reawakening of his true Maia spirit was too much for his mortal form to any longer withstand; he would never know.

 

*

 

Nori stood before Lady Vairë, Lady Nienna, and Lord Aulë, once again in his original Maia form in the Halls of Mandos.  He remembered everything.

“I want to thank you all,” he said.  “Even if I’m forever branded a rebel and a misfit, I’m grateful for the chance you gave me to live a life on the land, and to get to be with be Bilbo for a short time, even if that time had to end.  And of course, for letting me play a part in changing the past.”

Their plan had succeeded.   Bilbo (who would not have joined the Company on their quest had it not been for Nori) had found the One Ring in the goblin tunnels of the Misty Mountains, thus preventing a goblin or orc from finding it and bringing it to Sauron.  And one day, Sauron’s evil would be defeated forever.

The three Valar exchanged mysterious smiles with each other, before Aulë said to Nori, “You didn’t really think that was the end of it, did you?”

“A hero like you deserves to be rewarded,” said Nienna.

“You mean…” Nori said, eyes growing wide.

“Yes,” said Vairë, extending her hand to him, which he took.  “Your time has come.  Follow me.”

 

*

 

A dull thumping sound accompanied by a muffled voice was heard coming from within one of the tombs in the burial halls of Erebor.  A few dwarves made short work of breaking the tomb open, using hammers and pickaxes to free the dwarf trapped inside.  At last he broke free, falling to the floor in a pile of rubble.  “Finally!” Nori exclaimed, getting to his feet and brushing the dust off of himself.  “I thought I was going to suffocate in there and die _again_!”

He looked up and noticed a plaque on the broken tomb, which read: HERE LIES NORI, A FALLEN HERO OF EREBOR.  He turned around and saw the astonished faces of a small crowd of dwarves that had gathered around the tomb, including Thorin and the other members of the Company.

Every last one of them had their hair styled in Nori’s signature starfish design.  Nori couldn’t decide whether they looked amazing or ridiculous.  All he could do was gawk.

Actually, not all of them were starfish; Dwalin’s hair seemed to better resemble a hammerhead shark, and Dori had managed to style his hair in a way that made his head look like a puffer fish.

Even Tauriel the elf, standing off to the side with Kili, had a fancy starfish hairdo, adorned with many shimmering beads that twinkled like stars in the torchlight.

“Nori,” Dori whispered, smiling, his eyes brimming with tears.  He opened his arms and Nori moved into his older brother’s embrace, joined an instant later by Ori.

“It’s another miracle!” Oin said.

Once Nori let go of his brothers, he made a quick survey of all the familiar faces around him.  There was one face he didn’t see.  “Where’s Bilbo?” he asked.

Everyone exchanged regretful glances, as if trying to decide who was the best person to answer that question, before Fili finally spoke up: “He went back to the Shire.”

“What?”  Nori looked at Thorin.  “You mean he’s not with you?”

It took a moment for the others to realize Nori’s misconception, then Bofur said, “Nori, after you died, Bilbo withdrew from all of us.  He was inconsolable.  He just wanted to go home.”

“Bilbo is a dear friend to me,” Thorin explained further.  “But nothing more.  And I am content with that.”

Dori squeezed his younger brother’s shoulder encouragingly.  “I told you... _you_ are the one his heart belongs to.”

Nori was dumbstruck.  It seemed too good to be true.  If only the Shire weren’t so far away…

Not that it truly mattered.  After all that Nori had been through already, there was no distance too great, no obstacle that could keep him from the hobbit he loved.

Ori gave him a gentle pat on the back.  “We know what you’re thinking,” he said with a smile.  “You’re already planning to leave us so you can go to him.  And we’ll let you.  But not yet…”

“That’s right,” Dori agreed.  “Tonight belongs to family.  Tonight, we celebrate!”

“A feast!  In honor of our hero!” Thorin exclaimed.  “All hail Nori!  Nori the Deathless!”

The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, hoisting Nori up on their shoulders and parading him through the halls of Erebor, chanting “All hail Nori!” as they went.

 

*

 

Nori rose from the dead exactly one year after the day he died.  Why it was exactly one year he didn’t know, but during that time, the dwarves of Erebor had initiated a tradition to pay tribute to him on the anniversary of the day of his heroic act--”Nori’s Day”, they called it--the day when, through some strange power never before known to belong to any dwarf, he had magically brought the King and the two Princes of Erebor back to life, at the cost of his own life, and their way of honoring him was by wearing their hair in his signature starfish style on this day.

So, as it turned out, Nori got to be a trendsetter after all--for one day of the year, at least.

 

*

 

Bilbo was sitting quietly, listlessly, on the bench in front of Bag End.  He wasn’t smoking a pipe, drinking tea, or reading anything, he was just...sitting.  Thinking.  He had returned to his home months ago, and yet he still wasn’t quite used to being alone again.

Then...could it be?  He saw someone approaching in the distance, someone familiar.  Bilbo nearly leapt from his seat in order to run and meet the person.

Once he reached Nori, the hobbit surprised even himself when his immediate impulse was to slam his fist against the dwarf’s arm.  Not that it hurt very much, but it did wipe the smile off of Nori’s face, rendering him momentarily taken aback.

“How could you?” Bilbo sobbed.  “How could you do it?  Sacrifice your own life...think you were less important…”

Bilbo crumpled into a ball of sobs, but Nori caught him and held him, and the two of them cried in each other’s arms, kneeling in the grass in the bright sunlight of the Shire.  Finally Nori said, “I thought you loved Thorin.  I was wrong.  I suppose I thought that if I couldn’t be happy, the least I could do was make sure that everyone else was happy.  I can’t honestly say that I’m sorry for reviving all three of them...but believe me when I say that I didn't want to die, and I'm sorry for leaving you to believe that I was gone forever.  I hope you can forgive me.”

Bilbo let out a small sniffle, then said, “Of course I forgive you.”

He knew now that it really was Nori who rescued him on his birthday, all those years ago.  It was him the whole time!  And Gandalf had hinted at the possibility that Nori might one day be able to return to the world of the living, saying that magical beings with great power are sometimes simply able to do so...unfortunately there was no way of knowing when or by what means this might happen, so Bilbo was reluctant to hope for too much.

But now, at last, they were together again!  Nori wondered: What would Bilbo think when he revealed to him that he was really a Maia of the sea?  They had so much to talk about.  Bilbo certainly had plenty of questions for him, but for the present moment, there was only one that really mattered...

“Will you stay with me?” he finally asked, after a few minutes of silence had passed.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Nori replied without hesitation, letting go of his tight hold on Bilbo just enough to place a gentle kiss on the hobbit’s forehead.  He smiled.

Bilbo smiled in return, pulling Nori forward so that their foreheads touched, the way he’d learned dwarves typically showed affection to one another.  Then he closed his eyes, and his lips met Nori’s in a passionate kiss.


	5. Epilogue

Bilbo and Nori stood at the front of the boat, gazing in anticipation across the sea toward the great land mass they were approaching.  The shore was lined by a never-ending row of very high, steep cliffs, blocking the view of any of the geographical features of the land that lay beyond.  Suddenly the wind began to pick up and the ocean waves became progressively more turbulent, rolling higher and higher until at last, a colossal figure broke the surface directly in front of the boat; first its giant head, rising up, up, up...it was a human head, or at least it looked like one...water cascaded down its human-like features and dripped from its long, white beard while its piercing blue eyes stared ahead...soon a pair of shoulders appeared, a chest and torso…

It was the Vala Ulmo!

Bilbo trembled, looking like he might faint at any moment.  He clung tightly to Nori, who wrapped his arm around his little hobbit husband and squeezed his arm encouragingly.  Bilbo turned his head to look at Nori, seeing the giddy grin on his husband’s face, and when he looked back at Ulmo, the warm, inviting smile he saw on the Vala’s face set him slightly more at ease.

“I was wrong,” Ulmo said softly, (or as softly as possible in his loud, booming voice,) smiling fondly at Nori.

Now _those_ were three words he never expected to hear the Sea Lord say...least of all to _him_.

He reached forward, picking the boat up with both hands and lifting it out of the water.  Nori and Bilbo wavered on their feet for a moment, feeling slightly petrified but mostly confused, until they realized what was happening.  Then they both smiled as Ulmo lifted their boat up higher and higher still, and the beautiful continent of Aman came into view from behind the tall cliffs--the land where they would spend the rest of their days.  It was more breathtaking than Nori remembered it being.

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever imagined!” Bilbo said as Ulmo set the boat down atop the cliffs, near a path leading down into the green valley below.

“And it’s our new home,” Nori said, placing a kiss on Bilbo’s temple.  “Yours and mine.”

 

~ * ~

 

The shining paradise that lay before Nori’s eyes gradually dimmed...He blinked a few times in perplexity before realizing he wasn’t looking down at the valley, but up...at the moon.

He was lying in bed... _his_ bed, with Bilbo, in their bedroom in Bag End.  The moon shone through the window onto their faces.

It was just a dream...or was it?

In his vision he had seen himself and Bilbo growing old together, until one day they were invited by the elves to sail with them from Middle-earth to live out the rest of their lives in the Undying Lands.  Perhaps it was a vision of the future, conjured up by Lord Mandos and relayed to Nori in his sleep by the Vala Lórien, the Master of Dreams?

Nori looked over at his husband lying beside him; Bilbo was asleep, his breathing soft and steady.  Nori couldn’t help but stare.  He turned over onto his side, admiring the way the moonlight was shining on his husband’s handsome face resting peacefully against the pillow.  The rustling of sheets and movement of the mattress must have woken Bilbo up, because the next moment his eyes were slightly open and peering inquiringly at Nori.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Nori said, brushing a stray curl out of Bilbo’s eyes, then caressing his cheek.  “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Bilbo smiled a sleepy smile.  “I love you too.”

Nori kissed him, then they lay quietly together, eyes closed, noses almost touching, Bilbo combing his fingers through Nori’s loose hair spread out over the pillows, until they both gradually drifted off to sleep again.

Nori didn’t care about the future.   _This_ was all that mattered.

 

~ * ~

 

_“I’ve found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay.  Simple acts of kindness and love.”_

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome! I'd love to know what you think!


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